


Iron & Ash

by withered



Series: these violent delights [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Deathless Tony, Gen, Hurt Tony, Idealization of death, Infinity Stones, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17797061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: It's not so much a kiss of death as it is the taste of it.





	Iron & Ash

 

Tony remembers the taste of ash and iron; it hits the back of his throat on every swallow the way the alcohol used to when he was nothing more than a genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist with daddy issues and a myriad of untreated addictions.

Ash and iron become the only thing he remembers.

After Afghanistan, and Yinsen; after the wormhole, and the Tesseract; after the Bunker, and the Avengers.

Ash and iron are all he lets himself know, all he lets himself taste.

It’s for the best.

Every time he’s tasted something else: the buzz of victory and ozone on his tongue that makes him want to shout in exhilaration, the too sweet nectar in the few kisses he’d pepper on his loved ones, the residual static of creating, the blossoming violence of hope; he’s been disappointed because the ash and iron always come back, they always find a way.

After the Iron Man suit fell from the sky; after everyone has walked away; after Ultron, and Jarvis; after space, and how he’d still looked to it – wondering and wanting.

Ash and iron.

Its ironic in some ways.

Tony’s always known the taste of iron. Despite Howard’s declaration to the contrary in the wake of Tony’s many disappointments in his father’s eyes; Tony is a Stark, and Stark men know nothing but iron.

Iron will, iron drive, iron grit.

So, what if it tastes like blood?

His family has shed plenty. He’s done the same. And if the Universe wants its piece, so be it; Tony will bleed, and if iron is all he’ll ever know, becoming Iron Man seemed a fitting thing to do.

Not that the Merchant of Death was wrongfully given.

With the way everything in his life has found a way to burn to the ground, he isn’t surprised the way ash clings to him so readily. The ash is a warning, a reminder: _Nothing you hold dear will ever last, but you’ll always have me._

He’d hoped, morbidly and despite himself, that the ash and iron would one day be washed clean from his palate; replaced by dust and earth and decay. If he’s being honest, he isn’t picky. There doesn’t need to be a body. He doesn’t need a burial.

Let him crumble. Let him sink.

God, _just let him go._

When the Soul Stone hums, Tony knows what it wants.

From the day Strange gave up the Time Stone for him; from the day the Mind Stone gravitated for its purpose in Vision; from the day Tony was exposed to the power of the Tesseract; he knew.

The Power Stone and the Reality Stone were mere formalities.

Tony always did have the ability to take down every human legion on their green earth, a consequence of having violence so firmly in his veins, thrumming like a never-ending heartbeat when he donned the suit to make it right, to find peace, to make war with his own two hands.  In contrast; bending reality to his will, to reshape the world, to _create_ ; had always been child’s play.

A thousand outcomes, a thousand ways…

Tony had hoped though – against his own better judgment and the souring in his mouth that it wouldn’t –

Ash and iron.

_It’s you._

He doesn’t know exactly where he goes when he pays the cost of the Infinity Stones’ admission, only that people reappear in his place.

Tony thinks with a vague sense of sadness that he doesn’t even get to say good-bye.

There’s nothing but a single droplet of a tear to mark his place on Earth before the sky above him burns:  

The plane of the Soul Stone is empty except for him, and he knows, instinctively, from the bottom of his heart to the first and last cell to generate in his husk of a body that this is it: This is what Strange meant, this is what the Universe wanted; this was always meant to be.

A thousand outcomes, a thousand ways…

His life for all of theirs.

_It’s always you._

He remembers the taste of ash and iron; it’s all he’ll ever know now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. I totally fucked with the most romantic monologue in the MCU and turned it angsty. I'm not even sorry. 
> 
> [Click here if you want to find out more about my work](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com/)


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